Ch 10: Spoils Of War

After the battle, Ivar found Vig, “Your strategy was excellent, but I found an unavoidable defect. The wagon formation moves slowly. If the nomad tribes choose to migrate, how should we respond?”

To this, Vig gave a seemingly reasonable explanation:

Nomad tribes’ flocks of sheep mostly mate in autumn and give birth in spring. The newborns have more than half a year to grow and develop. After storing sufficient nutrition, they will face the first cold and cruel winter of their lives, with a much higher survival rate than lambs born in summer or autumn.

It is late April now. The enemy’s livestock has just given birth to young, making them immobile. Fleeing means abandoning the young and the mares that have just given birth. Only by defending the camp can they win a chance of survival.

“So that’s it,” Ivar exclaimed in admiration, a spark of uncontainable curiosity flashing in his light green eyes. “How did you think of this?”

Vig casually deflected, “A bard mentioned this information, and I just happened to remember it.”

In fact, this strategy was prevalent among the Ming Dynasty border troops. They specifically took advantage of the weakness of mares and ewes after giving birth to launch attacks, commonly known as “destroying nests”. Combined with the “autumn burning” and “ironware embargo” measures, this greatly weakened the northern nomadic tribes, with significant results. It’s a pity that the court ignored the threat of the fishing and hunting tribes in the northeast region, ultimately leading to a major disaster.

The next day at noon, they discovered a nomadic camp by the lakeside. It was surrounded by wagons forming a low wall, with a shallow moat dug outside, clearly intending to hold out.

Unfortunately, the young men of this tribe had already suffered heavy casualties. They barely managed to gather 120 people for defense, including some elderly men with gray hair and young boys.

“With only this kind of trash, they dare to resist?”

Rurik declared an attack, ordering the troops to form a shield wall and advance slowly. Fifty archers were responsible for showering arrows from the rear to disrupt the enemy’s morale.

The moment the shield wall reached the edge of the camp, the enemy collapsed. Except for the chieftain and several retainers who died in battle, the rest of the nomads fled with their families, wandering everywhere on the steppe. The lucky ones would be accepted by other tribes, while the unlucky ones would only become corpses, left for ravens to peck at.

After the battle, Vig had no interest in participating in the follow-up activities. He sat alone on the grassland, summarizing his experience. As a time traveler, he was unwilling to merely be a warrior who breaks formations. He preferred to look at problems from a commander’s perspective.

“The previous battle proved that light cavalry equipped only with scimitars and mounted bows cannot defeat infantry holding their formation. But history shows that cavalry does have a significant advantage over infantry, especially the later Mongol Empire. How did they do it?”

He gathered dozens of gravel stones, arranging them on the ground to simulate the formations of infantry and cavalry. If he were to become a cavalry commander, how could he break through this hedgehog formation?

Harassing with arrows?

Mounted archers are no match for foot archers. An exchange of arrows would be a huge loss.

Cannon?

With the current level of metalworking, he couldn’t count on this weapon.

After wasting nearly half an hour, Vig concluded that he should have some elite cavalry wear heavy armor to charge, regardless of casualties, to disrupt the infantry formation. Then, after the formation weakens, dispatch light cavalry to reap the harvest.

At this time, Ivar rushed over to interrupt his thoughts.

“We struck it rich! The enemy robbed six caravans in total. The goods are all piled up in a tent. It is estimated that three cargo ships are needed to carry them. Rurik did the math; we’re going to get rich this time!”

Vig went over and lifted the curtain. He found white furs piled carelessly on the ground. Due to improper storage, nearly a quarter of the furs were severely damaged, some moldy, and some gnawed by mice.

“That’s not all,” Ivar led him to the chieftain’s tent and pointed to a chest hidden in the corner. Inside was half a chest of amber.

Vig picked up the largest piece of amber and held it up to the sunlight. The color was warm and moist; it was estimated to sell for a lot of money. In addition, there was a ring at the bottom of the chest, with a string of Greek writing engraved on the back.

While escorting the prisoners back to the Rus’ tribe, Vig had someone translate the Greek inscription. They learned that the owner of the ring was named Bardas.

“Bardas, is there such a person in history?”

After interrogation, the prisoners admitted to robbing a group of travelers six months ago. The leader was a Greek, and there were more than ten Rus’ mercenaries protecting him.

Vig keenly sensed that something was wrong and quickly asked what items the Greek had left behind. Unexpectedly, the prisoner casually replied, “There seemed to be a letter, but we couldn’t understand it, so the chieftain casually threw it into the fire pit and burned it.”

“Burned?”

Vig couldn’t believe it. He separately questioned several other prisoners, and the results were similar. He could only temporarily put it aside and began to discuss how to divide the spoils of war.

This battle yielded a rich harvest, and it also eliminated a major threat to the Rus’ tribe. The chieftain was very satisfied. He kept the horses and sheep and gave all the looted furs and amber to the caravan. He also promised to build three excellent cargo ships and dispatch fifteen people to help with transportation.

As for the caravan, the members unanimously agreed to divide the spoils equally.

Ivar raised his goblet. “My iron sword was broken. I heard that people from the East are skilled in forging swords. I want to buy a handy weapon.”

“I heard that a kind of fabric is produced in the Far East, called silk. I want to bring it back to Northern Europe and give it to Princess Eve.” Niels was infatuated with King Eric’s youngest daughter, Eve, and planned to use silk to win the beauty’s heart.

Everyone became more and more excited, until they were completely drunk. Rurik found that Vig had not spoken the whole time. He guessed that the guy wanted a beautiful female slave and couldn’t help but tease him:

“Haha, do you need me to lend you some money?”

“No, I’m thinking about pursuing the target.” After running through most of Eastern Europe, Vig was already exhausted, both physically and mentally. His biggest worry now was how to find Lord Borg. Constantinople had a population of hundreds of thousands. Without the assistance of official institutions, it would be difficult to find him in the vast sea of people.

Over the next two months, the caravan members enjoyed a rare period of peace. Bored, Vig took the time to learn archery from Niels, but his talent in this area was far inferior to his swordsmanship, so he ended up giving up.

In July, they set off again. The Dnieper River had abundant water in the summer, greatly reducing the difficulty of navigation. The cargo ships arrived smoothly at the mouth of the river.

“What a dark color. No wonder it’s called the Black Sea.”

Vig couldn’t help but reach out and touch the sea, stirring it casually. Then, following the captain’s instructions, he rowed the oars and steered the cargo ship to a nearby settlement for a short rest.

Before entering the port, Rurik instructed his comrades, “To import grain, honey, and slaves, the Greeks have built several isolated settlements on the Northern Black Sea Coast. They have complicated rules, so remember not to cause trouble.”